


Mideval Fantasy Dream Ensemble

by GudufuFruit



Series: Dreams [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dungeons and Dragons, M/M, forced to role play, really bad flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 11:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GudufuFruit/pseuds/GudufuFruit
Summary: They're yeeted into a D&D world. I'll add more later.





	Mideval Fantasy Dream Ensemble

Aziraphale comes to his senses deep within some sort of cave. His wings are out, brushing against the bars of- yes that is a cage. He blinks as he slowly sits back, taking in the sights around himself. 

A cave lit only by the molten lava slipping through cracks in the walls and ground. Bones are scattered about from various creatures, weapons and armor lying here and there. Guards surround the area, two being Orcs while a third is some sort of rock creature.

When he shifts his hands he realizes chains hold him firm, ensuring he remains trapped within the cage far more suited for a songbird than whatever this dream has decided of him. 

_ An Angel _ . 

His false memories supply. 

_ An Angel captured by the evil Demon Sorcerer Crowley. _

Instead of fear Aziraphale only feels warmth at the realization. A soft sigh escapes his lips, one of the orcs guarding him turning. 

"Shut it." It snaps.

Aziraphale looks to him, wings raising to curl around himself. He shuts his eyes and snuggles down into them, waiting patiently for Crowley to snap out of the dream like state and into a more lucid one. 

"Gunter, Borin, Kale." 

Aziraphale perks up at hearing Crowley's voice, the three guarding him turning as well. The two orcs bow their heads while the rock creature remains stoic. 

Crowley steps forward into the glow of the lava, his black and red robes resembling obsidian with magma creeping through the cracks. His hair is long, going down to his hips in elegant waves. Elegant black horns slip from the red locks, curling gently to form a broken halo. His wings remain the same as they always have, though they seem a bit ruffled for some reason.

Aziraphale can't peel his eyes off his love. The way that robe hugs his hips, the way these more evil features somehow bring out an even more unique beauty in him- it's awe inspiring. 

And Crowley struggles to keep his own composure upon seeing his Angel. Hair in wispy curls as always, eyes too impossibly blue. His wings seem to glow even in the darkness, nothing but a simple white robe covering him. His own false memories tell of grand armor upon this paladin, but now he only wears the cloth. 

Crowley pauses before the cage, his wings giving a small shift as he examines the prisoner within. Aziraphale tries to glare at Crowley, his wings curling around himself more now. He's supposed to be trying to escape, to thwart this vile demon!

"Hello, Angel." Crowley's voice is a purr, one that causes Aziraphale's wings to fluff up.

"Ready to stop this little game yet?" He hums, glancing over to his lackies.

He knows what he is here, his false memories scream of it. A true monster, a sorcerer capable of so much and fueled by nothing more than the drive to cause suffering and fear through the land. He knows his followers only obey out of this fear, that he has ultimate power over them. And he also knows Aziraphale was sent to stop him, the only one to survive from his party.

Aziraphale shifts in his bonds, wounds making themselves known beneath his clothing. Bruises most likely, perhaps even a broken rib. 

He isn't sure what angle Crowley is playing at right now. They could easily drop everything and attempt to live in this world as they desire but is it safe to do so? Personally, Aziraphale knows he's weak. He probably couldn't even take out one of the orcs at the moment and he feels so much stronger than them!

"Well?" Crowley hums, getting nice and close to the cage now.

Aziraphale glances to the lackies before his expression softens, confusing them. 

"You broke my ribs and I'm starving…!" Oh how he sounds absolutely pathetic but he  _ feels _ far worse.

Crowley sighs and shakes his head, snapping his fingers. A bright red light consumes Aziraphale before quickly fading away, all wounds mended in an instant. 

"Stop your whining. Should be a pub on the other side of the world, away from… this." Crowley gives a pointed glance at the lackies who seem entirely lost.

"Master Crowley, what are you doing?" One of the orcs finally asks.

Crowley sighs, removing a key from his pocket and unlocking Aziraphale from his cage. 

"Giving up on this I suppose. Boring scaring everyone after a while. Come on out, Angel. Your armor's in my room. A trophy or something…" Crowley rambles on as he helps Aziraphale out of the cage, freeing him of his chains as well.

Aziraphale sighs once he's free, wings spreading wide as he pops his back. So much better!

"Giving up?! But what about- are you going to kill us?" 

"Only if you keep asking questions. I'm leaving in an hour with Aziraphale. Once I'm gone take any of my belongings you like. I don't care. Don't search for me." Crowley states, taking Aziraphale's hand in his own and nearly dragging him away.

"Crowley! Be nice, ow- oh the floor is too hot!" 

"Then hover you idiot!"

__________

  
  


Aziraphale can't help but give Crowley a pointedly sour look as he sits upon his love's bed. He knows Crowley didn't hurt him but  _ still _ ! It isn't fair how  _ he _ was the damsel in distress and Crowley of all people was his tormentor. He can't even stop that little voice screaming in the back of his head to run, to hide, to get reinforcements to stop this monster. 

"There it is!" Crowley beams, plucking up a hideous bag. 

"Bag can hold anything that fits through the top!" He proclaims, beginning to shove a separate bag of magical items he'd been gathering up. 

Useful things, potions and scrolls, items that will help them with whatever may happen in this strange land. 

"Your armor's in the closet." Crowley hums as he opens the doors to it. 

Aziraphale eyes the shining full plate armor, a faint but of unease taking over. He doesn't know if it will be as uncomfortable as way back when, in reality that is, but he can't just walk around willy nilly without protection.

"Do you have a bath? Anywhere I can freshen up, my dear?" Aziraphale finally pipes up.

Crowley's expression droops as the answer pops into his mind. Ah, well, such is life of a demon here apparently. 

"No, I bathe in the lava apparently." He then runs a hand over his arm. "Explains the ash…" 

"We should find a bathhouse. I'm not changing until we do, even if these robes are a bit…" Aziraphale makes a sour expression as he plucks up a bit of fabric with blood staining it. "Telling…"

"We can after I use this. Is there anything here you need first? Anything you can remember?" Crowley asks, turning with a scroll in his hand. 

"Not that I can think of- what is that?" 

"Plane shifting scroll, gets us away from here. Somewhere new, nobody will know us." Crowley states, stepping forward. 

Aziraphale eyes the scroll, somehow understanding what his love is saying. Even if it is insanity, well, dreams tend to just go with the flow so to speak. They've learned to do the same.

"Oh, since no one will know us we can start over! No more Evil Sorcerer Crowley and Guardian Aziraphale, Paladin of the Divine God-" 

"Master Crowley, are you still in there?" One of the orcs from before asks outside the room.

"Shit. Been an hour. Time to go, Angel." And with that he snatches Aziraphale's hand, opens the scroll, and lets the magic consume them both.

__________

  
  


With a pint of ale in one hand, wings spread wide, Aziraphale lounges in a tavern with his beloved. Crowley sits across from him, his own wings spread wide and a half empty pint in hand. The two seem entirely lax in their spots, having chosen something far in the back to have some form of privacy. 

"Honestly, his dreams have been so tame as of late." Crowley continues.

He waves his pint for emphasis, scrunching his face.

"Suspicious if you ask me. Bound to...to be a nightmare evenshually." 

Aziraphale nods, glancing over to the bar maid- some precious elven thing- as she comes over for refills. The poor thing always seems so nervous coming over but Aziraphale does his best to set off a calming aura, something warm for her. 

Crowley holds out his mug to her, the woman taking it and giving a nervous little smile. 

"My dear, I've told you already he's harmless." Aziraphale hums, giving Crowley a horrible little grin. "Tamed him so to speak." 

" _ Tamed _ me?" Crowley repeats, wings tucking in tightly behind his back.

Aziraphale chuckles as the woman hurries away, Crowley's eyes beginning to glow in agitation. 

"Yes I do believe I have. Though a bit of… corruption, yes, has happened on my end as well." Aziraphale hums, taking a sip from his mug.

Crowley settles down in his spot, huffing. He slouches the moment his back touches the booth, a somewhat sour expression on his face. Well, until the ale is back. He sits up to take it but Aziraphale snatches it before he can. 

"Angel…" Crowley can tell Aziraphale is pushing his buttons, wanting  _ something _ from him.

"What? It's mine isn't it?" He asks all too innocently, glancing to the poor elven girl. 

"Aziraphale. I'm not inna mood for games." Crowley tries, though his Angel only pouts at him.

"But all of this is a game, my dear. And quite frankly I want to see what this- what your current form can do." And Aziraphale has a certain tone to his voice, one that Crowley has learned oh so well over this short time they've truly been together.

His expression shifts to one of challenge as he leans forward, wings giving a soft flutter of interest. His fingers lace together, elbows settling on the table. His chin rests upon his hands, gaze intense as always.

Aziraphale's face heats up at the sheer intensity of Crowley's shift. It always makes him feel like, well, a mouse caught by a cat when his love takes on that predatory gaze. He shivers, feathers fluffing up as he stares down his love. 

Aziraphale's gaze finally shifts when a new mug is set down before Crowley, the maid doing her best. Crowley plucks it up, downing the entire thing in one swift go before slamming it down. He stands from his spot, wobbling for a moment. His wings shoot out for stability only to settle back behind himself. 

"I should warn you, isha bad idea t'fight a sorsherer…" Crowley's threat only has Aziraphale chuckling, though the maid has rushed from the table.

"Oh, my dear sweet Crowley…" 

"Not sweet!" 

"Sour then, sour and bitter-"

"I'm not food!"

Aziraphale finally stands from his spot, getting right in Crowley's face. His eyes shoot wide when the Angel kisses him before he slowly settles down, returning it with as much passion as a drunken demon can give. 

Aziraphale pulls away with a little laugh, Crowley slowly opening his eyes. 

"Hm… not sweet, not sour…" Aziraphale hums, as if truly analyzing Crowley's taste.

Crowley leans forward, trying to capture those lips again but gets a face full of fluff instead. He gawks at the wing in his face, lightly batting it away. When it's gone his Angel has started the walk out, clearly more sober than the demon. 

"Aziraphale!" He shouts, though it comes out as more of a whine. 

Aziraphale glances over his shoulder and grins before quickening his pace out the door. Crowley grits his teeth and follows after, patrons watching the show in muted fascination. The bar maid only feels relief when the two are finally outside.

The moment he's able to, Aziraphale spreads his wings and takes off into the evening sky. Crowley rushes after him. As much as his mind yells it's a bad idea, he ignores it. Wings spread wide and he's chasing after Aziraphale. 

Gentle pinks and blues surround them as they rise up through the clouds, Aziraphale keeping up his speed even with that horribly heavy armor on. When he breaks through the clouds, Crowley is right behind him. Without much thinking he crashes into his love, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

The two tumble together, Aziraphale laughing as his demon tries to kiss him again. He somehow manages to stabilize them, lifting Crowley in his arms. His drunken love's wings are of no use in such tight quarters. 

"I think up here will do nicely, don't you?" He asks, voice filled with amusement. 

Crowley only hugs him tighter, huffing. Stupid Angel running from him, not letting him cuddle and kiss and claim. When something soft but with some solidness to it touches his bare feet he pauses. He peeps down below them, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out how his Angel made the clouds solid. 

The two settle down on the plush white clouds, Aziraphale pulling Crowley into a warm embrace. He kisses his love stop his head as he settles down. With a sigh of bliss he slowly lies back, letting the fluff have him. 

"How…?" 

Aziraphale shrugs, honestly having no idea how he did it. His mind tells him some innate ability only  _ he _ has but he doesn't really care. 

"Dream powers. Now, would you like to have a bit of fun up here? We may be trapped like this for some time and-" 

As if the world wants to spite him everything shoots black. Aziraphale sighs as he "awakens" from the dream. A book is wide open on his lap, Crowley still asleep beside himself. The birds are chirping outside and rays of sunshine leak through the curtains

"Oh… mm…" He makes soft sounds as he thinks over the dream.

Crowley shifts in his spot, dreams doing a  _ hard _ shift to what he normally has. Aziraphale leans down and kisses him on the cheek, smoothing a hand down his side and whispering sweetly to him. 

"Mmm 'ngel…" Crowley murmurs, slowly waking from his slumber. 

"Yes, my dear?" Aziraphale has so much warmth in his voice.

"Five more minutes…" 

Aziraphale chuckles and slips his arms around Crowley, nuzzling into his neck. Yes, fine, he can have his five minutes. Then they must get on with the day! So much to do. So little time!


End file.
